


Jealousy

by indigo_carter



Series: Supernatural Smut [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Jealousy, Smut, Use of Safe Word, smutty goodness here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4027078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_carter/pseuds/indigo_carter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Hey I was wondering if you could do a sam/reader insert where Sam gets jealous of other guys looking at the reader and it ends with super rough Dom!Sam smut. Thanks (if you can’t thats okay) (anon request)</p><p>100 kinks: #5, #61</p><p>Character: Sam</p><p>Author: Frankie (spnsmutscribe)</p><p>Reader Gender: Female</p><p>Word Count: ~2,000</p><p>Warnings: Jealousy (obviously), Dom!Sam/sub!reader, rough sex…use of safe word? (Associated with Dom/sub), potentially dub con/surprise sex (not rape as consensual), mention of rape.</p><p>A/N: So this was fun! I actually really enjoyed writing Sam being jealous and possessive. I really hope you enjoy this, nonny <3 I’m sorry I kept you waiting!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealousy

You leaned on the bar, trying to catch the bartender’s eye to place your order. You’d been there for longer than you cared to think about and turned to look over your shoulder at the boys in your booth. A warm hand ran up your back causing you to bite your tongue on a scream, turning your head fast enough to give yourself whiplash. The hand belonged to a not-unattractive man, although whatever good looks he had were somewhat ruined by the lecherous smirk on his face.

“What’s a pretty young thing like you doing in a bar like this?” He leaned against the bar beside you, his hand still resting possessively on your back. You looked at him, confused.

“Does that line normally work for you?” If you sounded affronted, you could hardly be blamed. He blinked.

“What do you mean?”

“ _What’s a pretty young thing like you doing in a bar like this_?” You mocked. “It’s hardly the most original thing to say. Now kindly fuck off. I’m with someone.” You turned away from him, gesturing to the bartender and placing your order for three beers and three vodka shots. It had been a tough hunt and the three of you needed to relax. Sam had wanted to stay in with a movie and although you mostly agreed, Dean’s suggestion of going out, getting a bit pissed and stumbling home in a pleasant stupor won out. You were pondering an internal play-by-play of the hunt when you became aware of another warm body pressed against your side. You rolled your eyes and prepared your best bitch-face as you turned to stare daggers at the stranger. He was tall, build like a brick shit-house, and despite your undoubtedly superior training, you balked at confronting him.

“So, I haven’t seen you around here before.” He winked at you and you raised an irritated eyebrow.

“Probably not. It’s unlikely you’ll ever see me here again.” You turned back to the bartender as he wove his way back to you with your drinks on a tray.

“So, I guess I’ll be seeing you at mine later tonight then.” He pressed closer to you and you glared up at him.

“No fucking chance. Get out of my way.” You picked up the tray and gestured with your chin. “I need to get back to my boyfriend and his brother. They’re hunters. Big game. Bigger guns. ‘Scuse me.” He moved to cage you in.

“I don’t take no for an answer.” He leaned over you, and you slid your drinks back onto the bar behind you. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you brought your knee up between his legs, connecting with his crotch with an audible thud, slamming your fist into his nose as he doubled up.

“You are tonight.” Scooping up your tray again, you manoeuvred around him as he crouched on the floor, clutching his balls with blood flowing freely down his face. As you slid back into the booth beside Sam, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and pressed his lips to your neck. You pulled away from him, examining his face concernedly. “Sammy?” Dean was sitting on the other side of the booth, grinning at you.

“You did good, kid.”

“Gee, thanks, Deano. I try. There seems to be an abnormally high percentage of jerks out and about tonight. Sam? You ok?” He’d pressed his face into your neck again, and you could feel him making little nips at the hollow of your neck and shoulder.

“Mine.” He murmured, and you sighed with sudden realisation.

“Yours. Obviously.” You whispered back, your lips in his hair. The rest of the evening passed largely without incident, other than the blonde bombshell of a waitress ‘accidentally’ flashing Dean her cleavage as she collected the empty glasses from your table (surprisingly, Dean restrained himself from taking her home), and Sam’s constant hold on you. As the three of you wended your – rather drunk and wobbly – way back to the shabby motel you were staying in, you and Dean were indulging in some loud and off-key singing, but Sam remained silent, his face set in rigid, angry lines. Even in your inebriated state, you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, and you were glad you’d managed to get a separate room from Dean for the night.

Waving goodnight to Dean – and pausing momentarily to make sure he got into his room safely – you wrapped your arms around Sam’s waist and lifted your face to look at him. He was scowling, brows drawn low, and his muscles were wound tight under his skin. He pushed free of you, and fumbled to unlock the door. Once inside, he locked the door and prowled towards you where you’d plopped down on the edge of the bed.

“You’re mine.” His voice was low, a rumble catching in his throat. “All mine.” He pushed your shoulders back onto the bed and crawled over you, hovering low over your stomach and pressing your upper chest into the bed with his forearm. “No one else gets you, you understand me?”

“Yes, Sam.” You gasped.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.” You gave yourself over to him, relinquishing control over your body. You knew he could feel you relax under him, and the wolfish, predatory grin which spread over his face only confirmed the feeling. He lifted away from you and pulled you with him, making you stand in front of him as he sat down on the edge of the bed again. He palmed the bulge growing in his pants, and laced the fingers of one hand in your hair, bending you towards him so his lips were by your ear.

“Strip.” It was whispered, but whispered with such force that you had to brace your knees to prevent them buckling.

“Yes, sir.” You mumbled, stepping away from him as he released your hair. With shaking fingers, you unbuttoned your shirt, letting it drop away from your body and land in a pile on the floor. Soon, it was joined by your shoes, socks and jeans.

“Stop.” You paused, hands reaching for your bra clasp. “Turn around.” You spun on the spot, and his large, warm hands stroked up the outside of your thighs, cupping your hips and slid over the curve of your waist to neatly unsnap your bra. He pushed the straps from your shoulders, and let it drop in front of you. His hands slid forwards, over your shoulders, and cupped your breasts, feeling their weight and teasing your nipples, before running his hands down your flanks and dipping his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with one sure movement. He stood behind you, and lifted you onto the bed before hurriedly removing his own clothes and adding to the pile on the floor. His erection never failed to impress you, no matter how many times you experienced it. Dark and curving and hard, you could see his throbbing need coursing through him, and you lay back on the bed. Sam, it appeared, had different ideas. Seating himself on the bed, he dragged you towards him by the arms, draping you over his lap.

“Gonna leave marks enough to put off any guy who so much as blinks in your direction. You’re mine. You’re my dirty little whore, aren’t you, Y/N?” He was growling, his voice catching in his throat, and you moaned back. “Gonna need more than that, Y/N. You’re mine, aren’t you, slut?”

“Y-yes…yes, sir.”

“You’re my little girl, but you let those guys touch you and chat you up like I didn’t even exist, like I’m not the one who does this to you.” His hand hovered over your ass, and you were still sprawled across his lap, but the burning injustice of his comments cut deep and tears began to spill from your eyes.

“Fuck…pecan pie.”

“Shit, babe?”

“I did no such thing, Sam. Were you watching something different to Dean? Didn’t you fucking see what I did? What I said?” You pulled away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself and wriggling back to sit against the pillows.

“I went too far, I’m sorry.” He crawled over to you, and pulled you towards him. “I know, I saw. I even heard. You know what my head’s like, Y/N. Short of having you attached to me by a lead…” His eyes kindled and the throbbing returned to your core.

“Oh really, you’d like for me to be your little pet, wouldn’t you? Like to have me wear your collar and let you control me by a leash?” You teased, leaning up to lick along his neck and jaw. “You’d like for everyone to know I’m your little girl, wouldn’t you?” His hand found its way up to your throat and his fingers encircled it lightly. “Just like that, baby.” You nodded your encouragement at him, satisfied with his apology. His fingers tightened and your breath cut short.

“Mine.” He growled it, once, then his hand was gone and his forearm was back on your chest and his lips were on yours and his tongue was invading your mouth, and nothing had ever felt so glorious.

He yanked you back down the bed, forced your thighs apart and in one swift movement buried himself inside you. You cried out, mostly from surprise, and he stifled your noise with his hand, before rising up onto his knees, gripping your hip in one hand and your throat in the other, and set a bruising pace, his hips snapping into yours with enough force to send the bed pounding into the wall. He was holding you hard enough that you knew there would be bruises, ones Dean and the rest of the world were sure to see, but you couldn’t give a fuck about that. Sam was yours and you were his, and you didn’t care who knew it. Breathing was tricky, but you managed to take short, shallow gasps, and the lack of oxygen seemed to simply enhance the pleasure coursing through your body as Sam found every single one of your sweet spots.

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, every muscle in your body contracting and a shriek escaping your lips as you clamped down on Sam’s cock. He fucked you through it, hands gripping you harder than ever as his pace began to falter. His own end approached, and the sensations of him emptying his load inside you, his lips pulled back in a rictus of pleasure, his hands gripping you tighter and tighter pulled another orgasm from you, another cry – this time of surprise – escaping your lips.

“Fuck.” Sam slumped on top of you, his hands moving to rub at the red marks on your skin, blue bruises already beginning to blossom on your hip and throat. “Fuck, baby, are you ok?” You blinked and swallowed hard, shifting around under his weight.

“I think so.” He rolled off, and took you protectively into his arms.

“I’ve never been so scared, babe. I saw them hitting on you and…I saw you being raped in an alley and left for dead and Dean and me never finding you…”

“Shh-hh, it’s ok. I’m here. We’re here.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I know, Sam. I love you, too.”


End file.
